


Future Genetics

by fairhearing



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crack, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairhearing/pseuds/fairhearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "WE HAVE NO FIC ABOUT SULU AND CHEKOV'S BABY." IMO this called for double trouble.</p><p>Warnings for: Dumb dumb dumbness in the name of adorability, unwittingly overheard sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Genetics

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely inspired by [littlewolfstar](http://www.littlewolfstar.livejournal.com)'s thrashably adorable Chekov/Sulu kid-art.

Scotty knew what was coming as soon as he heard the first wail. Sure enough, not three seconds later, a little girl ran sobbing into his office and threw her arms around his leg.  
  
"Oh, now, Midori," he said soothingly, patting her head. "What's happened this time?"  
  
"Vanya called me sick!" came the muffled reply.  
  
"Er." Scotty blinked. "He did, did he?"  
  
"That's right, I did, cause she _is_ sick."  
  
Ivan Sulu was leaning in the doorway, ubiquitous polymer bat'leth over one shoulder and ubiquitous three-corner-hat askew on his own set of black curls. He regarded Midori with disgust.  
  
"You're sick _and_ beeg," Midori told him, glaring from Scotty's side.  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not times infinity."  
  
"Are too times infinity eternity primeverse mirrorverse multiverse omniverse all-eighteen-dimensions no BACKSIES!"  
  
At that Ivan made a sound of outrage and drew his bat'leth.  
  
"Now, now, laddie," Scotty began, in alarm, but Midori just gasped and pointed.  
  
"You threatened an ally with your weapon," she said, eyes wide. "I'm telling Daddy."  
  
"Yeah? Well, _you_ got the number of dimensions wrong and _I'm_ telling Papochka."  
  
"Enough!"  
  
At the sound of Scotty's raised voice, the children went quiet. Reluctantly they stared up at him with identical blue-green gazes.  
  
"Now," said Scotty, determined to hold fast against the onslaught of three (Midori was wearing her pirate eyepatch) Pavlovich puppy-dog eyes. "Federation officers can settle conflicts without resorting to insults and threats. I thought you two were Federation officers?"  
  
"I am!" Ivan blurted out. "I mean... we are."  
  
"Sorry, Mr. Scott," said Midori, looking at her shoes.  
  
"Well. That's all right." Scotty shuffled a little, still not used to how the two of them had idolized him since their banishment from the bridge. "Now, suppose one of you tells me what's so bad about being ill."  
  
They blinked at him.  
  
"Being sick, then."  
  
The two of them exchanged glances, looking shocked.  
  
"It's a bad word," Ivan told him.  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Yeah. Grown-ups say it. Like last night, Daddy and Papochka thought we were asleep but we were really playing ninjas and then they started fighting and calling each other bad words."  
  
"Really." Scotty raised his eyebrows; Sulu and Chekov hardly ever fought.  
  
"Yeah," said Midori, looking delightfully scandalized. "We heard them. They were knocking things around and saying... the f-word... a lot, and then Papochka said 'Oh, Heekaroo, you're so beeg and sick' and then Daddy yelled like he was hurt and then they didn't say anything anymore."  
  
"They got tired from fighting," Ivan added. "They were breathing really hard after."  
  
Scotty was speechless.  
  
Luckily, just then, Midori spotted the chronometer.  
  
"It's fifteen-hundred!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet.  
  
"It is?" said Ivan. But Midori had already raced past him, her pigtails bouncing behind her, and was somersaulting through the door -- her preferred way to make any entrance or exit.  
  
"Last one back is a тухлое яйцо!" she called over her shoulder.  
  
Ivan scowled and thrust his bat'leth into his belt.  
  
"I can do that," he informed Scotty angrily, but when he attempted his own somersault he merely crashed into the filing console. He picked himself up -- lower lip wobbling dangerously in a way he had clearly gotten from the Russian side of the family -- grabbed his hat, and launched himself full-speed down the hallway.  
  
Scotty shook his head as he stared after them.  
  
"It had to be twins," he muttered, not for the first time.


End file.
